


the phoenix and the flame

by goldenthunderstorms



Series: the ficpocalypse (challenge fics) [6]
Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Dragons, Fluff and Angst, Henry Montague Sr.'s A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, I'll be honest I have no CLUE how to tag this one, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Percy walks into a lot of traps, Plague, Swords, arwyn attempts a real plot for once, definitely gets angstier as it goes, hope y'all are ready for DRAGONS, let Percy have friends damnit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/pseuds/goldenthunderstorms
Summary: “I don’t understand,” I say instead. “You want…me to handle the beast?”My aunt nods. “If you can defend your kingdom from a beast, you are more than fit to rule.”“How am I even supposed to do that?”“Well, there’s only one way to conquer a beast,” my uncle says as if that’s obvious. “To slay it.”When a mysterious plague returns to Mevalia, its people are certain that it's the remnants of a curse on their corrupt king from years ago, and the only way to stop it is to slay a beast, the corrupted king's cursed son. They turn to Percy, their prince, to save them. But when Percy finally finds the disgraced prince, he realizes he might not be as beastly as they all once thought, and resolves to find another way to save his people—and maybe the peculiar boy with wings he's starting to befriend.
Relationships: Felicity Montague & Henry "Monty" Montague, Henry "Monty" Montague & Percy Newton, Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton, Johanna Hoffman & Percy Newton, Percy Newton & Simmaa "Sim" Aldajah, probably more who knows this is gonna be a long ride y'all
Series: the ficpocalypse (challenge fics) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707529
Comments: 17
Kudos: 18
Collections: TGGTVAV AU Challenge Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/gifts), [em_gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ley Lines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273879) by [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope). 



> aaaa! after many months (that were mostly my fault), challenge fics are back!! if you're new here, challenge fics are a thing I do with em_gray and pinstripedJackalope where we write fics in rounds, each round taking an element for our fic from a fic that came before us. I based this fic off of pinstripedJackalope's Ley Lines, and the element is killing HMS (not really a spoiler, it'll make sense later).  
> this round we also decided to do something a little different with our challenge fics and added an extra layer to it (except for em because em is extra). our fics had to include monsters, swordfights, sickness, and the line of dialogue "How do you think this ends?" so,,,,here's how I did that.  
> this is a bit of a learning experience for me as I'm starting this with,,,,no real chapter amount in mind (but with some semblane of plot!!! that isn't solely romantic!!! look at me go!!!) so,,,y'all are along for the ride  
> thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoy!!!

The feast has lasted for hours. They always do. Such large celebrations in Mevalia are few and far between, typically only three in a year. We will take any opportunity we can to party, especially in my parents’ honor. This particular feast is in honor of when they ascended to the throne together nineteen years ago. The entire hall is covered in regalia. There’s a phoenix, our family crest, everywhere you look.

The dancing has calmed since it began but the party is still in full swing. Nobles are milling throughout the room, drinking and talking. I’m bored out of my mind. I’ve been sitting with my aunt and uncle on a platform for the better part of the past two hours. We sit and greet a string of visitors that approach our thrones. My aunt and uncle handle the occasion with their usual grace, my aunt especially. I think she’s particularly at ease tonight because it’s the first time in months she’s been able to appear at such an event since she gave birth to Oliver. I think it’s noticeable how restless I get though. There’s just something about sitting and making empty conversation with near-strangers that makes me uneasy. Luckily, I’m rescued.

Johanna approaches the platform, curtsying with an ingratiating smile. It’s unnecessary. My aunt and uncle adore Johanna already, though I’m sure it is partially because she always treats them with the same respect as she would if she were meeting them for the first time.

“Your Majesties,” she says.

“Lady Hoffman,” my aunt replies, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Johanna turns to me. She lowers her gaze bashfully, but I know the grin that flicks across her face. “Actually, I was wondering if I might steal His Highness away for a dance?”

“I would love to.” I glance at my aunt and uncle for their assent. My aunt nods eagerly.

I step down and offer Johanna my hand. We join other couples on the dance floor, falling into step.

“You couldn’t have rescued me sooner?” I ask.

Johanna giggles. “I couldn’t steal you right away! That would have been presumptuous.”

“You could commit murder in front of my aunt and she would still want to put a crown on your head.” It’s true. My aunt adores Johanna. We’ve known each other since we were children. Her mother is a Duchess, so our families have never minded our close friendship. My aunt thinks Johanna will make a good queen, calls her a “good, levelheaded, highborn lady.” I know she hopes that, by letting Johanna and I do things like this, I might fall head over heels for Johanna and marry her. I don’t have those kinds of feelings for Johanna, or for any woman, but Johanna knows that. We joke about it most times.

Johanna grins. “Yes, well, I want to wait for my coronation before I start making demands.”

“Really?” I ask. “Like what?”

“Well, when _I_ am queen,” Johanna begins haughtily, making me laugh. “I’ll bring Max with me _everywhere_ and no one can say anything to me.”

“Of course, my lady,” I reply, playing along. “He can even dine with us if you’d like, out of the finest crystal bowls.” I’m mostly joking, but Johanna actually looks pleased by the idea. She would do anything for Max, her ginormous dog.

“I think that will do very nicely, my lord.”

We get through a few more dances when the music begins to slow to a stop.

My uncle stands. “If I may have everyone’s attention,” he says. Of course, when the king speaks, everyone else falls silent. “I would like to raise a toast. To our late king and queen, whose memories we honor tonight, who brought Mevalia from great darkness before they were taken from us too soon.” His gaze sweeps over the crowd before he finds me and turns my way. “But I would also like to toast to the prince, my nephew, who, by this time next year, will be carrying on the legacy of his parents by leading Mevalia as its king.” He raises his glass. “Please join me in raising a glass to the king, the queen, and the prince.”

Everyone with a glass raises theirs and echoes my uncle before downing their drinks.

The celebration finally begins to wind down from there. Johanna and I make conversation as we slowly try to sneak out. Johanna, unlike me, loves parties, but even she’s tired.

“Slipping out already?”

Sim appears at my side, smirking at Johanna and I.

“You would too if you weren’t on duty,” Johanna retorts. She playfully reaches for Sim’s sword. Sim quickly moves out of the way. We’ve learned in the past that Johanna and sharp, deadly things are not a good combination.

Sim is my closest friend—other than Johanna of course. She’s the captain of the guard’s daughter and aims to take his place when he steps down. This means that at most events, Sim is too busy on guard duty to spend time with Johanna and I.

“You’ll miss all the fun of watching Richard Peele fall into a table of wine glasses,” Sim says flatly. Johanna and I immediately turn to see what Sim is gesturing to.

Richard is an Earl’s son. He grew up among us, but Johanna, Sim, and I have never really liked him. Fitting to his name, Richard is a dick. My aunt would wash my mouth out for using such _commonfolk language_ but it’s the only way to describe him. Right now, Richard is leaning against a precarious-looking table covered in wine glasses, talking to two ladies who look like they would rather be doing anything else.

“Should we step in for them?” Johanna starts for the ladies but Sim holds out an arm to stop her.

“Wait for it,” Sim says.

Almost as if Sim willed it, the table begins to tip. Richard doesn’t notice until it’s too late, and the table collapses, taking him with it. Glasses break. Richard is drenched in wine. The ladies he was flirting with quickly flee the scene. We have to stifle our laughter.

“He got what was coming to him,” Sim says, unbothered as she adjusts her headscarf.

Johanna sighs contentedly, looping her arm through mine. “I always love seeing the Peele family get what they deserve,” she says, then pauses. “Say, has anyone seen the Earl tonight?”

“I don’t think so.”

Sim scoffs. “Why would you want to?”

Johanna shrugs. “I just thought it was odd. If his son is here, why isn’t he?”

“The Earl isn’t the most healthy man,” I say. “Maybe he’s just unwell.”

The Earl was, in fact, unwell, but not in any way I would have imagined.

The next day, my aunt and uncle are grim when I join them in the sitting room of their chambers. They’re seated on a loveseat, in a tense discussion, but they stop when I enter.

“You summoned me?” I ask.

“Have a seat, Percy,” my aunt says.

I sit on an armchair across from them. “What’s going on?”

“You may have noticed last night that the Earl did not attend the feast last night,” my aunt begins.

I nod. “Why wasn’t he there?”

“The Earl has fallen ill.”

“Oh,” I say. I’m not sure why this is so urgent. “That’s—”

“That’s not all.” My uncle cuts me off. Unlike my aunt, he doesn’t try to stall. “The Earl has fallen ill with what we believe to be the plague.”

I stop. I force a laugh. “The plague? But…the plague is gone.” Even saying the word sends a chill up my spine. I wasn’t old enough to remember the plague that ravaged Mevalia when my parents took the throne but I saw its effects. The plague lasted almost three years, and it took longer for people to recover. Some families never did recover from the gaping holes the plague left.

Mine never did.

“That’s what we thought but it appears that the plague has returned. Subjects have reported strange illnesses, deaths, but we weren’t certain. So many things can kill a commoner. But the Earl has become grievously ill with no warning and the symptoms…” My uncle trails off. “We’ve sent our best doctors to see to him and they suspect that it very well may be the plague.”

At first, I have no words. The plague returning is something out of nightmares. Something I was always told would never happen because _my parents_ drove the corruption from Mevalia. “How is that possible?” I finally manage.

“Well, the beast was never killed,” my aunt says gently.

It takes me a few moments to realize what she means.

The plague that swept through Mevalia was no normal plague. It was a plague brought on by a curse. The king that ruled Mevalia before my parents was corrupt. A sorceress cursed him for his corruption, causing a plague to fall upon the kingdom and his firstborn child to come out a beast. The plague began to spread and, when the king’s first son—a beast by all accounts—was born, it only got worse. When they couldn’t take it anymore, the people drove the king out of Mevalia. My parents, who were leaders in the resistance, took the throne. After a little more than a year, the plague was gone.

But now, somehow, it’s back.

“You think this is because…the king’s son is still alive?” I ask.

“We’re dealing in largely uncharted territory,” my uncle says. “Few kingdoms have ever faced what we have. But yes, that’s what we think the issue is.”

“And what are we going to do about that?”

My aunt and uncle exchange a glance. “That’s what we need you for, dear,” my aunt says.

I frown. “What do you mean?” Neither of them speaks. I press. “Aunt Olivia? Uncle Thomas?”

My uncle doesn’t answer my question. “It will give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“ _Prove_ myself?”

“You know your aunt and I have had…concerns regarding whether you are fit to take on the throne.”

Again, I’m thrown. “Concerns?” I echo.

“What with your…sickness,” my aunt forces out. She says _sickness_ like it leaves an awful taste in her mouth. That’s when I realize what they’re talking about.

Ever since the doctors declared I had _falling sickness_ last year, my aunt and uncle keep making remarks about how it might affect my leadership. I think that’s ridiculous. I was raised to be king. But I can’t say any of that to them. “I don’t understand,” I say instead. “You want… _me_ to handle the beast?”

My aunt nods. “If you can defend your kingdom from a beast, you are more than fit to rule.” 

“How am I even supposed to do that?”

“Well, there’s only one way to conquer a beast,” my uncle says as if that’s obvious. “To slay it.”

I hit the ground hard, grunting. Sim stands over me, her sword pointed at my throat. “That wasn’t even a good _try_ , Percy,” she says.

I huff. “I did my best.”

“How are you supposed to slay a beast in this condition?”

I look up at Sim tiredly and she sobers. She offers me her hand and hoists me to my feet, handing me the sword that she knocked out of my hand. Ever since my aunt and uncle announced my quest, Sim has been training me. But despite Sim’s best efforts, my swordsmanship alone isn’t going to be slaying anything, and that’s only one of my many worries.

It’s been two weeks since my aunt and uncle told me about the plague. Tomorrow, I’ll be setting off to find the beast. My aunt and uncle wanted to give me time to prepare, but there isn’t any time to waste. More and more people have been coming down with the plague. The Earl’s condition has only worsened and his wife has fallen ill as well. The entire kingdom’s fate rests on my shoulders and mine alone.

“That’s enough practice,” I say, sliding down to sit underneath a tree. I wanted us to practice somewhere private, so Sim took me to a clearing a ways from the palace. It’s a clearing we used to frequent with Johanna when we were younger. I would play violin for them here. When Johanna received Max for her eleventh birthday, she started bringing him here and we would play games. Sim and I used to practice sword fighting before I realized swordsmanship wasn’t my forte. Now I’m practicing for another reason entirely.

Sim slides down next to me. “And we’re all relying on your sword to save us,” she says flatly.

“As long as the beast doesn’t have a sword of his own, I’ll be fine,” I reply.

Sim scoffs. “I just wish they would let me come with you. There wouldn’t be any risk if you had an experienced guard with you.”

“It’s my task alone, Sim.”

Sim makes a noncommittal noise. She doesn’t understand, but I don’t expect her to. She doesn’t know about my sickness. No one does. My aunt and uncle forbade me from telling anyone. They thought it might bring shame to us. Sim doesn’t realize this isn’t just me saving the kingdom, that it’s me proving myself worthy of it. To Sim, this is just my aunt and uncle being unreasonable.

I look over at her. Sim’s studying me, warm brown eyes calculating. “What, you don’t think I can do this by myself?” I ask. I wouldn’t blame her if she said yes. I’m not sure that I can either.

Sim shrugs, looking away. “I think you’ve always tried to do your best by Mevalia. This time won’t be any different.”

Johanna’s arms are tight around my waist, my face pressed into her long brown hair. “Promise me you’ll return to us in once piece,” she says against my shoulder.

“I’ll do my best,” I say.

“Promise me,” Johanna repeats, pulling back and taking my face in her hands. 

I do my best to give her a soothing smile. “Relax, Johanna. I’ll be home before you know it. Trust me.”

Johanna kisses my cheek before she finally lets go of me. “You know I do.”

I step away from Johanna, only to be immediately enveloped in a hug from Sim. It’s quick, tight, and surprising, as Sim isn’t typically one for hugs. “Don’t die,” is all she says.

I laugh weakly. “I’ll try not to.”

The three of us stand there for a long moment, staring at each other. No one wants to say anything more, to make this moment more daunting than it already is. No one wants to voice our fears and make them real.

“Percy!” my uncle calls for me.

I gesture towards him. “I should probably…”

Johanna nods. “We’ll see you when you return,” she says, her voice wavering.

“Before the equinox,” Sim adds.

“Before the equinox,” I affirm. It’s the time frame we decided on. No one is really sure how long this will take me. I have an idea of where I’m going and what I’m facing, but nothing is certain. With spring coming to a close, my aunt, uncle, and I decided that if I don’t return by the autumn equinox (or at least send word home) then they could assume that I failed.

That I won’t be coming home.

I get one last hug from Johanna before bidding my final goodbyes to them. I go to join my aunt and uncle, who are waiting by my horse. My aunt and uncle don’t hug me. There are no tearful goodbyes between us.

Still, my aunt passes Oliver to my uncle and takes my hand. “You will make us proud,” she says. Then, she softens her voice. “You will make your parents proud.”

I never knew my parents. I only know them through the stories told about them and the features I share with them, my mother’s brown skin and black curls, my father’s thin frame and freckles. But I’ve always known that I was meant to carry on their legacy. I’m going to save Mevalia from the plague, just as they did.

I just hope I won’t succumb to it, just as they did.

“We also want you to take this with you,” my aunt says. She turns to a waiting servant and takes a sword from him. She holds it out to me. “It was your father’s.”

I take the sword and study it. It’s not the first thing of my father’s I’ve been given. I grew up playing his violin. I’ve always clung to that violin, that last scrap of my parents that is mine and mine alone. Somehow getting this sword doesn’t mean nearly as much, but I appreciate it anyway. “Thank you,” I say, sheathing the sword.

I exchange terse goodbyes with my aunt and uncle. I say goodbye to Oliver, even though he has no idea what’s happening. I climb onto my horse, already equipped with the things that I’m bringing.

With one last shouted goodbye from Sim and Johanna, I set off to slay the beast.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dragons, as advertised

The journey to find the beast is long, but it isn’t hard. I’ve never traveled on my own like this, but like traveling for business with my aunt or uncle, being the prince opens most doors. I spend nearly a month sleeping in the castles of various nobles. I spend my days traveling further east. There is talk of where the cursed king is now, but that’s all it is. My aunt and uncle gave me a map with a direction to head in, but nothing certain. I’m stumbling my way through this almost entirely blind.

Until one day I’m not.

I’m in a village on the border of Mevalia buying bread when I hear talk of the cursed castle nearby.

“—and now it’s gone totally silent. None of that hellish roaring we were hearing. It’s like the entire castle’s been emptied overnight,” says a man to the baker. “I told my boys to stay away from it. Something’s always been off about that place. The family there was real strange, too, the one with the boy that just…disappeared?”

The baker tsks. “They’ve always been a strange lot. Any family living in the greylands is strange in my book.”

“Beg pardon,” I cut in, “but what are you talking about?”

The baker looks to me, amused. “You’re new here, boy?”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

I’m not recognized on my travels anymore. I don’t mind it much. If I need to identify myself as the prince, I have my signet ring. Only members of the royal family have one. But when I’m just passing through, it’s easier to go unnoticed. There were _processions_ through the first few villages I passed through, villages close to Lonisal. The farther from the capital I’ve gotten, though, the less frequent it has become. Now it’s just me and the mare I picked up a few towns ago in Strovern. These villages are so removed from the capital that they might as well be in a different kingdom.

“Just our strange neighbors,” the man talking to the baker says. “A family that’s been living in the greylands for the past few years.”

“The greylands?” I ask. I wasn’t even sure people _did_ that. The greylands are wilderness between Mevalia and Dasenfar, our neighboring kingdom.

The man nods. “Showed up out of nowhere and moved into an old castle about fifteen years ago. We never saw much of them, but we always knew they were there. They sent servants every now and then to the market, hired tutors from here. They had a son that we saw sometimes and then just…never again. And now the whole family’s gone up in smoke.”

“Strange indeed,” I murmur. Strange, and maybe a lead. “Where is the castle? Nearby?”

The baker looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but he answers anyway. “A few miles past the border. It’s so large you can’t miss it.”

I nod. “Thank you for your help,” I say as I drop coins on the counter.

The baker frowns at me. “You’re going _out there_? Have you lost your senses, boy?”

“Well, it’s actually Your Highness,” I reply, showing the baker my ring before I slip out of the shop. I do get one last look at his shocked face, which I enjoy more than I should. He’ll know better than to try and stop me, though, which was my real goal.

Once I leave the bakery, I climb onto my horse and head straight for the greylands.

The baker was right when he said I couldn’t miss the castle. It’s _huge_. Not as big as our palace, of course, but bigger than any castle I’ve ever seen. That’s not the most striking thing about it though. What catches my attention most is the banners: blue banners adorned with dragons.

It can’t be _this_ easy, can it? To just…stumble upon this estate bearing the former king’s crest?

The manor, though in absolutely no state of disrepair, looks deserted. All the windows are shut, unusual for any building during the summer. It’s silent. I could walk right in if I wanted.

So I do.

The main entrance to the manor opens without any resistance. The entry hall is just as empty looking as everything else. It’s a barren room, all uncovered stone walls and floors. That’s when I catch sight of them.

Scratch marks. They start near an entryway and go all the way down the corridor. They’re large and deep in the stone. Marks that only a beast could leave. Against any survival instincts I might have, I follow the marks. They lead me down many corridors, down and down into the depths of the manor. Down into something like a dungeon. It’s dark and rank, the air warm and thick. However, it isn’t _too_ dark to see, and certainly not too dark to see the beast sleeping in what looks like an open cell.

Well, beast might be the _generous_ term.

It’s a dragon. A legendary creature that, like my family’s phoenix, is only known in stories. I wasn’t sure they really existed. They might not, and _this_ dragon was just a result of the sorceress’s ire. The stories of dragons are few and far between in Mevalia because they were associated with the former king. But even with my lack of knowledge, this dragon seems _small_. Dragons in stories were always described as humongous, man-eating things that could crush houses underfoot. This dragon dwarfs in comparison, the size of a small horse. More than that, the creature is hardly fearsome. It looks thin as if it hasn’t eaten in a long time. As I study the dragon, I wonder if that’s the case.

It’s sleeping in a strange position, most likely because of its bindings. There are manacles on each of its legs that chain them to the walls, a heavy collar around its neck, and ropes tied to its wings and the ceiling, holding them up uncomfortably. The dragon is half-standing, the ropes not allowing it to sink all the way to the ground. The dragon must have been left like this in the deserted manor for days, if not longer. When I study it closer, I notice what looks like scarred lacerations covering its wings.

Despite all of this, the dragon is beautiful, if a dragon _can_ be. Its scales are an opalescent, silver-blue. Its wings are large and its head is crowned with tall, curving horns that glimmer even in the dim light. It looks like it _should_ be a majestic creature of legend. But instead, it’s here, starving in a cell.

Sim often tells me that I’m too softhearted. She says I trust too easily, that I let my guard down too often. She’s right, of course (she often is). If she were with me right now, I’m sure she would be shouting at me to just kill the beast while it’s down and get it all over with. But I can’t. It feels unfair, even cruel, to kill the dragon in the state that it’s in. I’m struck with sympathy for it. Surely this weak, pathetic creature isn’t the harbinger of plague that we all think it is. I can’t just _murder it_.

Before I can really think about what I’m doing, I kneel by the dragon’s feet, pulling out my lockpick. When Johanna first gave it to me for my journey, I was confused. (Sim had asked why Johanna even had such a thing. Johanna simply said, “We all have our skills.”) I’m glad for it now. It’s supposed to be able to open any common lock. As I insert it into the dragon’s first manacle, it does just that.

Unfortunately, my efforts don’t go unnoticed. I manage to free one of the dragon’s legs but wake the dragon in the process. The dragon yanks away and starts thrashing wildly like a spooked horse.

I step back, holding out a hand. “Hey, hey, calm down!” I say, although I don’t even know if the dragon can understand me. It keeps tugging at its restraints, panicked as it tries to get away from me. The ropes around its wings pull harshly and I know that if it keeps doing that, it’s going to be injured. “Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

The dragon must understand my words, for it does. It watches me warily, putting as much distance between us as it can, but it stops struggling.

“You’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” I hold out both hands, showing the dragon that I’m only holding my lockpick. “See? No weapons.” The dragon huffs and tilts its head. I follow its gaze to my sword, sheathed at my hip. I remove my sword from my sheath and toss it out of reach. I realize a second later that this makes me vulnerable to a creature that could easily devour me once it’s freed, but I resolve to handle one problem at a time. “I’m going to free you.” I gesture to the manacles.

Hesitantly, the dragon offers its other leg. I make quick work of the manacle. With both of its front legs freed, the dragon rears back and slices the ropes restraining its wings. It stretches its wings, clearly pleased. It then shuffles its back legs as if impatiently waiting for me to get to it. I unlock those manacles too.

The dragon darts away from me to the other side of the dungeon. Then, in a flash, the dragon is gone. In its place on the floor is…a boy. A naked boy with horns, wings, and a tail, but decidedly a boy. He looks to be about my age, shorter than I am with fair skin, sandy brown hair, and blue eyes the same striking color as his wings.

I stare at him, bewildered. “You’re—you’re a _person_ ,” I stammer.

“Yes,” he replies slowly. “And you are?”

“Percy,” I say. “I mean—my name is Percy.”

“Percy,” he repeats as if he doesn’t quite believe me. Now that he’s free, he’s eyeing me with the same wariness, shielding himself with one of his wings.

“Yes.” I pause, not sure what to say. I can’t quite open with _I’ve been sent to kill you, please don’t take it personally_ . “Do _you_ have a name?”

He scoffs. “Of course I have a _name_.” When he doesn’t continue, I stare at him expectantly. “Henry,” he finally says begrudgingly.

“Henry,” I echo. For some reason, it feels significant. I think back to the stories we were told growing up of the cursed king. He was rarely referred to by name. Most people that lived during his rule treat his name like a curse itself, like saying it will only bring ruin. I remember it, though. “That’s your father’s name too, isn’t it?”

Henry freezes. If possible, he puts even more distance between us. “Why do you know that? Why are you even here?” he demands. “I doubt it was to free me.”

I wince. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Henry stares at me. “Explain.”

I sit on the ground, putting us on equal footing. “Can you answer my questions first?”

“Why should I do anything for you?”

“I did just set you free.”

He considers this, still watching me like I’m some kind of threat. I think the only thing stopping him from running from me is his fragile state.“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“So King Henry is your father?” I ask.

“King…” he starts and trails off. Then it clicks. “You’re from Mevalia.”

I nod. “And you’re…”

“The cursed firstborn.” He sighs “That’s me.”

“And a dragon,” I add. I’m still shaken by Henry’s transformation. He’s human now but…he isn’t.

“The witch had a sense of humor, didn’t she?” he asks dryly.

I don’t have a response to that. “What about…the rest of your family?” I ask instead.

“What about them?”

“Where are they?”

“Gone,” he says plainly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—”

“No, they’re not dead! At least, I don’t _think_ they’re dead. They’re just…gone. They left some time ago. I don’t know where they went, so if you’re looking for my father, you’re out of luck.”

“And they just…left you here?”

Henry shrugs. “All I know is one minute I was being dragged here, the next I woke up chained up and alone,” he says harshly. “Wherever they went, they can’t exactly take me with them.”

My pity for Henry only grows. To just be abandoned like this by his own family for so long…

“How have you…survived?”

“It’s easier when I’m in—” he waves a hand— “my other form.” He cringes as he says it and changes the subject. “Alright, your turn. Why are you here?”

“Well, I’m not just from Mevalia. I’m the prince,” I say. Henry looks surprised. “And Mevalia is in trouble.”

“What does this have to do with us?”

“We’re in trouble because of the plague. The plague that befell us when your father was king has returned. Everyone thinks the only way to get rid of it is…to kill you.”

For a few long moments, that hangs in the air. Henry stares at me for a long time, then drops his head. “Well, get it over with then,” he says quietly. “I don’t see why you needed to wake me up for this.”

“What? No! I’m not—I’m not going to do it!”

He looks up again, surprised. “You’re not?”

“No! We’re…we’re going to fix this.”

Henry goes from relieved to looking unimpressed. “And how are we going to do that?”

 _Good damn question_ , I think. The blatant truth is that I don’t know. But there has to be a way to fix this without killing Henry. There has to be a way to save lives without taking his. I twist my signet ring on my finger—a nervous habit of mine—thinking. Henry watches me. “We’re going to fix this,” I say again. “We…are going to find the sorceress that cursed your family.”

Henry snorts derisively. “That’s it? _That’s_ your plan?”

“Unless you have a better one,” I retort. “But I need to get rid of the plague, and you’ll die here alone, so we don’t have a lot of options. We’re going to find her and ask her to fix this.”

“How are we going to find her?”

“I…don’t know,” I admit. “After she cursed your father, she was exiled from Mevalia for witchcraft. They say she settled south.”

Henry lays back on the ground, sighing. “Well, if _that’s_ the only certainty we have, you might as well kill me now. Put me out of my misery. Perhaps you’ll cure the plague anyway and you don’t have to go on this inane witch hunt.”

I frown at him but don’t say anything. I don’t imagine Henry is going to be very helpful, but I can’t just _leave_ him and I also can’t _kill_ him. Besides, he knows more about his family and his curse than I do. He’s still laying on the ground and I think he might fall asleep again. I’m sure he’s feeling unwell. If he’s been deserted here so long that it’s become village gossip, he could be on death’s door. “Are you hungry?” I ask.

Henry looks up. “What is this? Some kind of bribe?”

“No.” I reach for my satchel. I set it on the ground when I freed Henry. I pull out a loaf of bread that I bought from the baker and hold it out. Henry still watches me warily but the hunger in his eyes wins out. He all but snatches the bread from me and devours it. When he does, I get a glimpse of his teeth, slightly too sharp to be human.

Bread inhaled, Henry studies me again, his gaze a little less hostile. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” I say. For a few moments, we just take each other in. I decide to break the silence again. We don’t have time to kill. “Come with me. Please,” I add.

“What use am I to you?”

“Would you rather stay here?”

He huffs. “I’m not exactly the ideal traveling companion.” He gestures to himself. He’s not wrong. He’s still distinctly _not human_. And nude.

“We’ll be careful,” I say. “Take back roads. I have clothes you can wear so you’ll be at least somewhat less alarming, and you won’t freeze.”

“How do I know you won’t still kill me the second I turn my back?”

I stare at him. “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it by now.”

Henry makes a face but he doesn’t argue. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

The clothes that I lend Henry need to be doctored to accommodate his wings and tail. I use a dagger to cut holes in the tunic and trousers. They’re too large on him, as I’m at least two heads taller than he is, but despite that and the large holes, they do well enough. Henry moves around in them and I wonder if he’s just pleased to be wearing clothes again after spending who knows how long chained up down here.

“You know,” I chime in, “I could take that off too.”

Henry pauses. “What?”

I gesture to the collar still around his neck. The collar wasn’t chained to anything but it still looks cumbersome and uncomfortable. Henry moved before I could remove it.

Henry touches the collar. “You can’t,” he says sharply.

“Sure I can. I have the lockpick.”

“It won’t work.”

“At least let me try,” I insist. “Isn’t that heavy?”

Henry sighs. “Fine, you can try. But it won’t work.”

I ignore Henry’s peevishness. I also try to ignore how close our faces are as I fiddle with the lock on his collar, avoiding his piercing blue gaze. I can barely get the lockpick into the lock and once I do, it doesn’t budge. “Must be a special lock.”

Henry takes a pointed step back. “I told you. Now, are you ready to leave?” He starts for the stairs. “The plague isn’t going to cure itself.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a shorter chapter this time but I thought it was a good place to stop plot-wise, and we all deserve an election day distraction

[ _ fic playlist! _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/75cCeDIdafh9kdt2N0ZOOX?si=x8Pf4uWBRkmmMsbDrpIoCA)

Our first day traveling together is practically silent.

Once again, I’m lacking the better parts of a plan. I suggested that we skirt the edges of Mevalia until we reach the southern border, then work our way from there. Henry thought that was idiotic, but he still didn’t have a better plan. Right now, it’s all we’ve got. It’s admittedly harder to travel with Henry. Because of his… _ features _ , we won’t be able to sleep in people’s houses as I’ve been doing. When I have to stop to buy supplies, Henry will have to wait with the horse outside of town. At least my horse, Faris, hasn’t put up much fight to a sudden second rider. Henry sits on the horse behind me. I’ve tried to make conversation, maybe find out something useful, but Henry has clammed up.

For someone I just saved from a slow death, he’s being rather hostile.

It goes like this for hours until the sun begins to set. “It’s getting late,” I say, slowing the Faris to a stop. “We should stop and rest.”

“Here?” Henry asks, looking around. “In the woods?”

“We can’t exactly go knocking on doors.” I get off of Faris. Though he still looks put off by the idea of sleeping here, Henry does the same. “We’ll set up camp, sleep, and keep moving in the morning.” I rummage through my satchel, pulling out a pallet and unfolding it on the ground. “Oh, I guess there isn’t really anything for you to sleep on…”

Henry doesn’t have anything. Before we left the castle, he went up to his rooms to see if there was anything he could take, but the rooms were cleared out. Wherever Henry’s family went, it doesn’t seem like they planned to come back.

“Well, I’ll manage it,” Henry says. He glances at me. “Well, don’t just stare at me.”

“What?”

Henry just waves me off so I turn away. There’s a flash behind me and when I turn again, there’s a dragon where Henry was standing. I suppose that would be convenient, except Henry’s transformation spooks Faris. Faris rears, squealing. I try to grab his reins before he can bolt, but it’s too late. Faris takes off running.

Henry changes back and starts like he’s going to chase after Faris but I put out a hand. “Don’t bother. He’s gone.”

“Shit,” Henry mutters.

A surprised laugh slips out of me and I look at him.

“What?” he asks, then grins. “Is that not  _ princely _ language?”

I shake my head, laughing. For a few seconds, I’m able to let go of my frustration that we just lost our horse. Although I still lost some things in the saddlebags, my most important possessions—a waterskin, some food, clothes, and weapons—were in my satchel. What I don’t have, however, is flint, which is going to make for a very cold night.

Even without flint, it’s worth a try. I gather a small pile of kindling. I try to start a fire the hard way with sticks, but it doesn’t do much. Not even a spark. I sigh. “Looks like we’ll be without a fire tonight.”

Henry frowns at the kindling. “Unless…” Then, very aggressively, he blows on the pile.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He ignores me and does it again. That time, I see it. A spark. The tiniest beginning of a flame. It doesn’t catch, but it was undeniably there. Henry grins. “Third time’s the charm, then.” He gives it another try. A small flame shoots from his mouth, starting a fire.

I stare at Henry, eyes wide. “You can  _ do _ that?”

“I wasn’t sure if I could,” Henry admits. He looks a little giddy. “I’ve only ever done it once before and it…didn’t exactly go well. I didn’t want to try again and burn down the castle.”

I’m still staring at the fire, amazed. “You might be more useful than you thought.”

With a fire going, Henry and I settle in for the night. We eat bread and dried meat around the fire in silence, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the calls of birds in the surrounding forest. I notice Henry looking over at me. When I look at him, he doesn’t stir.

“What?”

Henry starts, looking up like he’s been pulled from a daze. “What?” he echoes.

I follow where Henry’s gaze was, to my signet ring, glinting in the firelight. “Is that true?” I ask, looking up at him again. “That dragons are…attracted to valuable things?”

Henry avoids my gaze again, shrugging. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met another… _ thing _ like me.”

“Really?”

“They aren’t exactly roaming Mevalia.”

He has a point. I can’t imagine growing up like that: being the only one of his kind here, maybe  _ anywhere _ . “I’m sorry.”

He bristles at that, his wings coming up like shields. “What for?”

“Wasn’t it hard? Being alone like that?”

“I wasn’t  _ alone _ . I do  _ have _ a family, you know.”

_ A family that abandoned you in a dungeon _ , I think but don’t say. It probably wouldn’t be wise to make an enemy out of a living torch. Henry is daring me with his eyes to argue but I won’t. If being prince has taught me anything, it’s when to hold my tongue.

“You’re very lucky then,” I finally say, “to have a family that supports you.”

Henry opens his mouth to say something but no reply comes. He just nods, ducking his head.

The next day, we continue our travels on foot. If I’m reading my map correctly, we’re about two days of travel from the next village. That’s only going to take longer on foot, but we won’t be able to obtain another horse until then. The walking might be more bearable if it weren’t for the heat, but we’ve entered the hottest days of midsummer. Our only respite is the shade of the trees and, eventually, Henry fanning us with his wings.

I laugh when he does that and he glares at me. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“No, no, I think it’s clever,” I say. “Though with those wings of yours, why are we even walking?”

I’m teasing but Henry frowns, ducking his head. “Well, I can’t exactly, ah, fly.”

That gives me pause. “What do you mean you  _ can’t fly _ ?”

“I can’t fly,” Henry repeats, fervently avoiding my gaze.

“How? Haven’t you been like this your whole life?”

“I just never learned. It’s not like I was born knowing how.”

I stare at him. Henry is a mystery to me but it seems that with every new thing I learn about him, the less I understand.

Our travels continue like that for a few days. Henry and I complain about the heat, which leads to us actually speaking to each other. We don’t speak of anything important. Henry is still hesitant to tell me anything, so I do most of the talking. I tell him about life at home, about my aunt and uncle, Oliver, Sim, and Johanna. After some days, Henry eases enough to tell me about his sister, Felicity, and his new baby brother, Adrian. I think we come to a silent agreement to avoid certain topics like our parents, the plague, his curse.

It’s strange, this shared history I have with this almost-stranger. He becomes less of a stranger over time. I rather like talking to him. He’s funny, easygoing at times. He reminds me of Johanna in some ways, although Johanna does a better job of filtering her thoughts. I begin to wonder if, under very different circumstances, we might have been friends. Maybe we can be under these.

That is if I won’t have to kill him after all.

I try not to think about it.

We’re not any closer to figuring things out than we were when we left. I don’t know how long we can wander the forests of Mevalia without a horse, let alone without a plan. In this heat, I don’t think it will be long. But favor remains on our side when finally, we see the edges of a village.

“Perhaps we aren’t lost after all,” Henry says flatly.

“We were never lost,” I reply, sounding far less sure of myself than I mean to. We creep as close to the village as we dare. The backs of cottages face the woods.

Henry turns to me. “Are you going to get supplies?”

“I’ll have to leave you out here. Will you be okay?”

Henry gives me a dry look, dramatically spreading his wings. “I think I’ll be fine,” he says, then grins. “Although you could always give me your sword. You know, to protect myself.”

“Absolutely not.” Though my sword isn’t as precious to me, I’m not eager to part with anything of my father’s. I already had to leave my violin at home because it would be too hindering to take it.

“Worth a try.”

I turn back to surveying the village. I can’t tell how far from the square we are. “I don’t know how long this will take, but I should be back by sundown,” I say. Henry doesn’t reply. There’s a snap beside and I turn again. Henry’s gone. “Henry?” There’s another snap further away and I take off after it. “Henry!”

Henry doesn’t respond to me but if he’s trying to be discreet, he’s failing. He crashes through the foliage as he goes before emerging from the trees again. We aren’t far from where we were when I catch up to him. But when I find him, he’s already climbing up a tree.

“Henry!” I hiss. “What the hell are you doing?”

Henry still doesn’t answer me. He scales the tree with surprising ease, using his tail as extra support, and begins to inch down a limb. That’s when I see what he’s going for. We’re dangerously close to a cottage. From the cottage’s roof hang herbs and crystals,  _ dozens  _ of crystals glittering in the light, and they seem to have caught Henry’s eye. I think he’s in that daze-like state again, similar to when he watched my ring by the fire.

I do the first thing that I can think of and shoot up the tree after him. I realize almost as soon as I’ve done it that it’s not my best idea. I don’t have Henry’s agility or extra appendages. But I’m already halfway up the tree, so I follow him. Henry climbs farther out on his limp, eyeing the crystal closest to him greedily. He starts to reach for it. The branch beneath him bends as he shifts his weight. I’m about to call out and warn him that the branch could fall when it does.

It snaps and Henry falls to the ground, landing with a crash in the cottage’s garden. He yelps, clearly pulled from his daze.

“Are you alright?” I call.

Henry winces. “I think I broke something.”

I climb onto my own limb and lean forward, trying to get a better look at Henry on the ground. But it appears this entire tree isn’t well-suited to holding people up. With an ominous crack, my limb snaps too. I land on top of Henry in a heap.

Henry groans. “Well, if I hadn’t broken something before, I certainly have now.”

Before I can retort, the back door of the cottage swings open, revealing a disgruntled looking man with graying hair. His eyes widen when he sees us. I’m sure we’re quite the sight, two filthy young men, one with wings, crushing his cabbages.

I force myself unsteadily to my feet. “Sir, I am  _ so _ sorry. We didn’t mean to…intrude like this. I’m—”

He cuts me off. “The prince,” he says, disbelieving.

“Uh, yes.”

He looks to Henry. “And you are?”

“A friend,” Henry chimes from the ground.

“...I see.” He turns back to me. “Your Majesty, is there…some kind of explanation for this?”

“Well, you see,” I begin sheepishly, “my…friend here was… _ admiring _ your crystals. In a tree. And he fell.”

The man raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“Yes, and I was trying to catch him and then I fell too.”

“I suspect that there’s more to the story than that, Your Majesty.”

I laugh humorlessly. “You have no idea.”

He studies me for a long moment, then looks at Henry, who still hasn’t gotten up. “Why don’t the two of you come in, clean yourselves up, and tell me the entire thing?”

“I appreciate that, sir, but I must warn you. Our story is…rather strange.”

The man looks at me again, looks at Henry, and looks back at me, eyebrows still raised. “The prince and a…” he trails off, unsure of how to label Henry before settling on, “ _ creature _ just fell from my tree. I’m not sure it could get any stranger.”

With that, he turns and walks back into his cottage. He leaves the back door wide open, leaving us with little choice but to follow.


End file.
